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<title>Call Me Babe For The Weekend by Streetlamp_Sunset</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28326600">Call Me Babe For The Weekend</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Streetlamp_Sunset/pseuds/Streetlamp_Sunset'>Streetlamp_Sunset</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Schitt's Creek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Childhood Friends, Christmas Party, Friends With Benefits, Holiday Traditions, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Semi-Public Sex, The Roses Never Lost Their Money</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:40:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,650</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28326600</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Streetlamp_Sunset/pseuds/Streetlamp_Sunset</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>David leaned against the bathroom counter, sharp edges looking a little jagged. He gave Patrick a tired smile as he tugged his undershirt over his head.</p><p>“Sexy.”</p><p>“Hey,” Patrick laughed, reaching for his hips, “come here, I’ll show you sexy.” </p><p> </p><p>David and Patrick spend Christmas Eve at his apartment.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Patrick Brewer/David Rose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>142</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Call Me Babe For The Weekend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Patrick tugged at his collar, a soft felted itch working its way beneath his skin. He always felt underdressed at the Roses’ galas, but his metric for what passed as an acceptable dress code broke right around the extravagant bird sculpture roosted in Mrs. Rose’s wig. </p><p>She twirled beneath David's arm as the number wrapped back around to Silent Night. His hair never budged, cut in a single sharp line over his temple. </p><p>Everything about David’s look tonight was impossibly sharp.</p><p>"Thank you," Patrick reached out for a flute of something clear and bubbling on a passing tray. The first and only year Patrick had dressed himself he’d been mistaken for waitstaff no less than a dozen times. It was much easier to choose between the selection of Rose approved sweaters Alexis laid out on the guest bed.</p><p>David finished the performance with a plastic smile as he was nudged from the spotlight, gaze already searching out Patrick. Mrs. Rose touted this year's recipients of the Rose Scholarship before the piano. Patrick paid little attention as she recited her usual speech about the importance of benefaction to David's high school alma mater. He could damn near recite it word for word by now. The scholarship had paid his own way through school. </p><p>"Hi," Patrick greeted as David's arms settled around his shoulders. The crowd melted into a muffled sea of sound.</p><p>“Ready to get out of here?” David asked.</p><p>He wanted nothing more than to curl up, warm skin pressed together, safe and blanketed beneath his sheets.</p><p>But there was a focus in David’s expression, so intense in the mists of all that opulence. </p><p>Patrick stepped back to interlace their fingers. He swallowed down the guilt and shame and wanting. There was something to it, perspective. The way it shifted as he walked away holding David’s eyes, smoothed his thumb in small circles over his knuckles. </p><p>"Dance with me first?”</p><p>David followed. They spun, slow song broken into the beats between his heart. For all that Patrick didn't belong here, David held him like he'd never belong anywhere else. Alexis' mouth curled into a knowing smirk as he dipped his head to rest against David's shoulder. Mr. and Mrs. Rose blurred in his periphery. </p><p>"Take me home?" Patrick asked as the tempo picked up beneath his ear.</p>
<hr/><p>Mrs. Rose caught sight of them bundled in their coats as they passed through the foyer. </p><p>"Leaving so soon?" </p><p>"I wouldn't exactly call it soon," David said tightly.  </p><p>"Thanks for having me, Mrs. Rose," Patrick reached out to take her hand and she gave his fingers an odd, fond squeeze. </p><p>"Of course," Mrs. Rose trailed off until David cut in.</p><p>"Patrick."</p><p>"Oh, sweet Pat," Mrs. Rose clapped her hand to her chest, glancing between them with soft eyes as Alexis swept down the stairs in her own outerwear.</p><p>"Mm, I see mom's little fun pills are still working," Alexis drew Patrick into a hug before stepping back and holding him at arm's length. "This is cute for you," she said decisively, "you should totally wear green more often."</p><p>"Thank you, Alexis," David snipped. </p><p>"You're very welcome, David," she grinned, reaching out to boop his nose. </p><p>Patrick snorted, nostalgia warming his chest in the midst of their well choreographed tug of war. He slid an arm around David's waist, leaning in as Mrs. Rose gave a parting brush to his shoulder.</p><p>“Merry Christmas, children.” </p><p>“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Rose.”</p><p>“And where are you off to?" David asked Alexis as they made their way down the stairs. Patrick passed the valet David’s number while they huddled on the walk to wait in the glow of the lamplight.</p><p>"Stavros is stuck in Barcelona until the fourth, so I'm staying with mom and dad for New Years,” Alexis said, “but Rach is having a little last minute thing at her ex step-dad’s." </p><p>“Well, have fun with that,” David said. “Should I keep my phone on in case I need to post bail?” </p><p>"That was one time, David," Alexis rolled her eyes. She twirled the ends of her curls into a smooth loop where they had fallen from her chignon.</p><p>“It has been several times this year, Alexis-”</p><p>“Okay, but not over Christmas,” she booped his nose again, grinning as he swatted it away, “don’t be such a scrooge, David.”</p><p>“Fuck off, Alexis,” David said brightly.</p><p>She rolled her eyes as one of the Roses drivers rounded the bend with her car.</p><p>“M’kay, well, that’s me,” she chirped, attempting a wink as she strode to meet it, “don’t wait up.”</p><p>David’s shoulders scrunched toward his ears as he pulled into himself with worry. Patrick wished he could reassure him. Alexis was going to be just fine. Probably. Maybe. She had a history of proving David right more often than she didn’t. </p><p>So he worried, carried the responsibility coiled tight in his chest until it snapped. A phone call at three am, the screen lighting up as yet another plea from an embassy cut through the dark.</p><p>Patrick let out a heaving sigh and reached out to wrap both arms around David’s waist. Thick, woolen mittens filled the gap between his toque and his pea coat as David brought their foreheads together. Patrick could hardly make out his eyes in the low light. He felt David's lashes brush his cheek as he tilted his head. </p><p>“Sir?” the valet called hesitantly. David’s ride sat idling at the foot of the stairs. </p><p>“David,” Patrick said gently, “car’s here, babe.” David’s mouth swept over his, quick and so warm against the chill of the night.</p><p>“Let’s go then.” </p>
<hr/><p>They made it halfway to Patrick’s apartment. </p><p>David’s hand slid from his knee, edging up the inside of his thigh before sweeping down again. </p><p>"If you keep that up-” Patrick’s breath hitched as David undid his fly “- I’m going to have to pull over.”</p><p>"So pull over,” David said, palming his cock where it strained against his boxers. He fought the urge to close his eyes and arch into the sensation. </p><p>"Yeah, okay." </p><p>Patrick took the next right into the back lot of the Methodist and parked in the shade of the pines. By now, they were well into the Christmas Eve pageant. No one would question an extra car in the lot. He killed the engine and David pulled him into a deep, filthy kiss.</p><p>Patrick surged forward, cursing as he got yanked back by his seatbelt. David laughed against his mouth, hand smoothing over the top of his thigh as he reached to undo the clasp.</p><p>"Condom?" he asked, nipping at Patrick’s lower lip. </p><p>"Glovebox, but we don't need it if you don’t want one," Patrick sucked in a breath as David worked the elesatic of his boxers to sit beneath his balls. </p><p>Last week he had opened an email from David’s office, negative sti results attached to his holiday itinerary. Patrick’s reply was the closest they ever got to acknowledging their annual holiday arrangement.</p><p>"Right," David’s gaze was a little wild around the edges. The hand on the back of his neck jumped, fingers echoing the teasing strokes the others gave his cock. “We don’t have any place to be. You could fuck up my hair.”</p><p>“David,” Patrick asked, “do you <em> want </em>me to pull your hair?” </p><p>“Please,” David said before sinking down on his cock.</p><p>“Okay,” Patrick gasped as he was enveloped in the hot, wet heat of him, “fuck, babe, that’s so good.” </p><p>His fingers weaved through the neatly gelled strands. He tugged hard, earning him a choked moan. David’s nails sunk into his thigh, biting through the thin fabric. His other hand slid between Patrick’s legs to cup his balls. Boxers stretched over his thighs, he didn’t have enough room to reach his hole. He rubbed just behind them, pressure firm counterpoint to the suction on his cock.</p><p>Patrick’s head thunked back against the headrest, dizzy with pleasure. Light stretched across the lot, street lamp painting David in a hazy glow. God, he was gorgeous. Patrick let his grip go slack, smoothing his thumb down his stubbled jaw before giving his hair a sharp tug.</p><p>David whined. Patrick’s hips jerked with a jolt of pleasure as he drew the sound out into a hum. David dragged him closer, encouraging the shallow thrusts. </p><p>“Oh fuck,” Patrick growled, “David, gonna come.”</p><p>David pulled back to suck on the head of his cock. He tongued Patrick’s frenulum, urging him on as he spilled down his throat. He nuzzled the curve of his hip as Patrick’s fingers loosened, nails scratching lightly over his scalp. Patrick waited for David to finish tucking him back into his boxers before dragging him up for a kiss.</p><p>“Do you want me to?” Patrick gestured to David’s own lap. He shook his head.</p><p>“Um, later though?” he asked, “at home?” </p><p>“Of course,” Patrick answered. David nodded and glanced away. “David, hey, are you okay?”</p><p>“You should keep it,” he said, straightening the twist of his scarf where it draped over the collar of his jacket.</p><p>“The scarf?” Patrick asked. David cleared his throat. </p><p>“Um, the car,” he said, “you should. It’s just, yours is always in the shop and I want you to be safe. So.” David gestured aimlessly, “the car, keep it.”</p><p>Patrick would be offended if he hadn’t grown up with the Roses’ particular brand of generosity. David had probably bought it for him to begin with. </p><p>“Well, since we already broke it in,” Patrick hummed, as if he hadn’t accepted the second he realized what he was being offered.</p><p>David laughed, soft with relief. A smile played at the corner of his mouth as Patrick turned the key.</p>
<hr/><p>Patrick worked the lock open with his free hand, bracing for the hot flush of insecurity that flooded his chests as he led David inside. Not that David had ever given him reason to feel it. He shed his layers as Patrick flicked on the lights, curling and unspooling eagerly into the cozy of his apartment.</p><p>“Ugh, I need to rinse off,” David groused. He had already tossed his jacket over the back of the couch, bow tie hanging undone around his collar. </p><p>Patrick filled a water glass beneath the tap. He didn’t bother with a second. David always stole his anyway.</p><p>“How about a bath?” </p><p>“Mmm,” David draped himself around Patrick’s shoulders, nose drawing down the smooth stretch of skin beneath his ear. Patrick shivered, shifting closer. “Sounds perfect.”</p><p>Patrick added a milky oat soak he had left over from Alexis’ last visit to the tub, undoing his button down while it filled. </p><p>David leaned against the bathroom counter, sharp edges looking a little jagged. He gave Patrick a tired smile as he tugged his undershirt over his head.</p><p>“Sexy.”</p><p>“Hey,” Patrick laughed, reaching for his hips, “come here, I’ll show you sexy.” </p><p>“Oh, you will, will you?” David smirked against his mouth, but his kiss was soft, bite drained away. Patrick smoothed his palms over David’s chest, slowly freeing the buttons. “Leave it,” David murmured as his shirt fell from his shoulders and his boxers joined the crumpled heap on the tile. David toed out of his socks still kissing him. </p><p>Patrick stepped away only to turn off the tap and lead them into the bath. David sunk into the water, settling back against his chest. His eyes drifted closed as Patrick ran a soapy washcloth over their skin. He was nearly asleep by the time he rinsed the curl defining conditioner from his hair. </p><p>“Come on, baby,” Patrick said as the water drained away, “let’s go to bed.”</p>
<hr/><p>Patrick woke slowly, reaching for David in the dark. His fingers brushed over cool sheets and he jolted awake, seized with panic that David had slipped away while he slept. </p><p>David cleared his throat. He was curled up in Patrick's desk chair, leaning against the picture window. The afghan that usually lay folded on the hope chest was draped over his shoulders. </p><p>"Couldn't sleep?" Patrick asked softly. David shook his head. </p><p>"Not so much, no." His hand drifted from his lap to smooth over the neck of Patrick's guitar. He winced as it called back to him, out of tune. </p><p>Patrick couldn't remember the last time he'd played. He shifted away from the edge and lifted the corner of the comforter.</p><p>"Come to bed, David."</p><p>David dropped his boxers at the foot of the bed and curled into the warm spot Patrick had left for him. He sighed as Patrick's arm tightened around his waist. </p><p>Patrick pressed a kiss to the curve of his neck where it sloped to meet his shoulder.</p><p>“Better?” he asked against the soft ridge of his spine.</p><p>"I didn't want to wake you," David admitted. </p><p>Patrick squeezed his eyes closed. <em> Wake me. Always wake me. </em></p><p>"You're allowed," he answered, voice rougher than he indented.</p><p>"Okay," David’s came in a whisper. He settled, toes cold where they were tucked against Patrick’s shins. "I'm so tired," he breathed.</p><p>"I know," Patrick’s hand trailed absentmindedly over his stomach. It caved in just a little as he sucked in a breath. </p><p>"Will you fuck me?" </p><p>"Hmm?" he froze, the quiet non sequiteur sending a jolt of arousal through him. David’s fingers curled around his wrist. </p><p>"Just like this?" he rocked back against Patrick’s erection, letting out a sleepy hum, “‘s nice.”</p><p>“David,” Patrick groaned.</p><p>“Patrick,” he replied much more evenly. </p><p>“There’s lube in the side table-” David was already there, reaching back to pour it into Patrick’s palm.  </p><p>David brought his knee to his chest, rolling just far enough onto his stomach that Patrick could ease a finger into his hole. David shifted, impatient, as he worked him open.</p><p>“I’m not a virgin, Patrick.” </p><p>Patrick hummed, teeth grazing the delicate skin of his throat.</p><p>“Oh, I know,” he murmured in his ear, “I was there, baby.” </p><p>David’s next exhale was shaky, “right, fuck.” </p><p>He took another finger easily enough, relaxing into the stretch, “does that feel good?”</p><p>“Mmhm,” David nodded, glancing back to drape his leg over Patrick’s thigh. David shuddered as he pressed in, a soft, blissed out sound escaping his lips. </p><p>“Patrick,” he breathed.</p><p>They rocked together in the dark, lazy and comfortable. </p><p>“Oh, god, I missed this,” David said as he arched back into the next thrust. It took Patrick a moment to realize it hadn’t been him who spoke.</p>
<hr/><p>Patrick knew David wouldn’t be in bed come morning. It still sent a pang of longing through his chest to see David, his <em>plan nothing before 10am if you expect me to show up, God why are you such a fucking morning person?</em>  David, dressed and ready for the day. He lifted a stack of clothes into his duffle. His bowtie from the night before, his clothes from the bathroom floor. His scent on the pillow would fade, every trace of him neatly swept away by the new year.</p><p>“Hey,” Patrick’s voice came out gruff with sleep. He cleared his throat and David turned, eyebrows softening. </p><p>“Good morning." They didn’t say goodbye. Patrick heard it anyway, steely armor in the tense set of his shoulders. </p><p>His hand brushed through Patrick’s hair as he settled on the edge of the bed. David had left his own curls, fluffy and soft where they played at the edges of his ears. Somehow that cut deeper than the rest. </p><p>“Mm, g‘morning,” Patrick yawned. He sat up, feeling stripped bare in his worn t-shirt, morning breath sneaking into their kiss.</p><p>David pulled away, lingered in the doorway. He never asked Patrick to wait.</p><p>“David-” his voice caught in his throat. Patrick never asked him to stay. “Have a safe flight.”</p><p>David sighed.</p><p>“Merry Christmas, Patrick.”</p><p>The door closing echoed no louder than it ever did. He trusted David to lock it behind him. His eyes still stung as the chain rattled against the doorframe.</p><p>“Merry Christmas, David.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This fic was inspired by Taylor Swift's 'Tis The Damn Season. I always get a little melancholy around the holidays, so I very much appreciated the mood of Evermore. Thank you so, so much for reading!<br/>❤️ Sunset</p></blockquote></div></div>
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